


Waltz of the Flowers

by maisiedukes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Florist AU, Flower Language, Fluff, M/M, i might add an epilogue chapter if it goes down well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5631766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maisiedukes/pseuds/maisiedukes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal initially goes to the florist's for an arrangement, but returns for the scruffy employee behind the counter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waltz of the Flowers

Hannibal had heard, if you bought flowers in a certain part of Baltimore, you were to buy them from Chilton’s Flower Shop. He’d heard that Chilton’s shop had the biggest selection of the highest quality flowers - and had recently added a new online ordering system to their website. Flowers had become an interest four nights ago, when Hannibal had been invited to Dr. DuMaurier’s home for a congratulatory dinner a week from then. He’d insisted that he hadn’t technically graduated medical school yet, and that the good doctor had already done enough for him, but the woman had a formidable resolve; it was one of the things Hannibal admired about her. So, Hannibal found himself scrolling through rows upon rows of potted plants on his tablet, searching for a thank-you gift for his mentor, not just for her invitation, but for her guidance. 

When he placed his order, a line of tiny red script read that the flowers would be ready for pick up the next day. The next afternoon, Hannibal found himself parked outside of a quaint corner shop, window displays blooming in the front, and a white sign with “Chilton’s” in dark green script that swung in the wind above the door. 

Spring started in a few weeks, but the weather was still bitter and grey, and the little florist’s place seemed subdued in the misty air. It was the sort of atmosphere Hannibal didn’t like to disturb, so he silently glided inside, shutting the door carefully behind him with a dull thud. 

A burst of vivid color welcomed Hannibal. The walls of the shop were lined with plants of every size and hue, from delicate flowers to what appeared to be small shrubs. The interior was crowded but organized, and it smelled earthy and sweet. Hannibal took a deep inhale, enjoying the multi-layered scent. Gradually, he became aware of tinny pop music leaking from behind the counter, from the back room. He didn’t recognize the tune.

Over the music he could hear two voices talking, joking with one another. Hannibal stood at the counter for a few moments before his impatience got the best of him, and he rung the silver call bell for service.  
-Ding-

The bell rang out clearly in the shop. “Shit!” someone cursed, probably louder than intended. The radio was silenced. Sounds of a hushed, frantic argument could be heard, and Hannibal waited as the two decided who would attend to the customer. 

“Matthew, I don’t know how-!” a man’s voice said, pleadingly, cut off by more muttered quarreling. Finally, one of them emerged from the room. 

Hannibal had been inspecting the wood grain of the countertop politely, but looked up at the sound of footsteps. He felt his eyes widen a fraction, unconsciously. The young man behind the counter was about his age, with an unruly mop of brown curls that looked like they hadn’t seen a comb in well over a week. A red embarrassed flush was settled across his cheeks, contrasting with a shadow dark stubble. Clunky glasses frames perched low on the bridge of the man’s nose, and Hannibal tried to catch a glimpse of the eyes that flitted behind them.

The man was very attractive, and Hannibal couldn’t help the little squeeze he felt in his chest. He tried to calm himself with a slow exhale of breath, dropping his heart rate. The employee’s apron had some loose potting soil on it, which he was hurriedly trying to brush off. He had a laminated nametag pinned to his shirt, bright and unsmudged. 

“Will.” Hannibal read, his lips feeling the shape of the letters. 

The young man looked up, startled. He gave a quick, nervous smile, meeting Hannibal’s gaze for a second, before they darted away like frightened prey. Hannibal resisted the urge to grab the employee’s jaw, force him to look at him again so he could continue looking into those bright blue eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Will said, shakily. “Uh, what can I help you with?”

Hannibal forced himself out of his headspace. 

“I am here to pick up a pot of hydrangeas I ordered via your website last night. It said that they would be ready this afternoon.”

Will squinted at the screen of the counter’s computer, adjusted his glasses, and fiddled with the mouse. 

“Yeah, uh, Hannibal Lecter, right?” he asked. Hannibal liked the sound of his name on this man’s tongue. 

“That’s correct. Is the order ready?”

“No.” came the curt reply. Hannibal couldn’t help but raise a brow incredulously. “Are you sure?”

He could see the employee bristling nervously under his questions.

“Let me check in the back really quick.” Will disappeared around the corner, out of sight. In the back, Hannibal could hear another heated, whispering exchange. Hannibal could pick out something Will was saying about “moving around orders,” with noncommittal grunts from his coworker. There was a pleaded “Matthew,” this time with a sigh of resignation in reply. A whispered thank-you later, and Will was coming back around the corner. 

The employee approached the counter tense with anxiety.

“Um, if you wait around just a couple minutes the order will be ready.” He shifted under the man’s gaze, cleared his throat. “Sorry about that.” 

The two made eye contact again, briefly. Hannibal usually secretly abhorred waiting on other people’s negligence, but this was an excuse to continue talking with the enchanting man behind the counter, and he was not about to pass it up.

“Of course, it’s no problem.” said, softly. His words lightened the deep crease in Will’s brow. 

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a long wait.” The employee’s nametag glinted in the light, contrasting with the dirty apron. Hannibal decided to make conversation. 

“Have you been working here long?” Hannibal asked, indicating the fresh tag. A deep flush appeared on Will’s face, and his face cracked into a grimace.

“It must be really obvious” Will said, laughing nervously. “I only started a couple of days ago. I’m still really new and - uh, a little confused.” His fingers flexed with the urge to fiddle with something. “Uh, do you usually buy from here? I wanna get to know regulars.”

Hannibal gave a little shrug, diverting the flow of conversation. “How do you like it here?”

“It’s pretty good, I’m in school with Matthew,” Will had started rearranging a display of trowels, and gestured behind him to the back room, “and I needed another job - money, you know.” 

He gave Hannibal a look, and the man across the counter could feel eyes on his well-ironed shirt and recent haircut. “And Chilton hired me on Matt’s word, and I mean, the guy’s a little strict - I guess he’s got a reputation to uphold - but he says I’ve got good commitment. So here I am.” 

He gave a soft smile, satisfied with his work with the trowels. Hannibal nodded, feeling something in his stomach flutter.

Will took another look at the small computer screen. “So, a pot of blue hydrangeas. You got a girlfriend or something?” As he said it, Will realized how that could be construed. “Not to barge into your personal life or anything!”

Hannibal gave a lenient smile, “No, I am unattached - the flowers are for a mentor of mine. Hydrangeas are a symbol of gratitude, and I am very grateful towards her.” 

“Yeah, I don’t have a girlfriend. Not to say I’m not- I’m just looking-!” Will devolved into embarrassed mumbling and flushed a deeper pink. 

It was absolutely endearing. 

Looking for something else to focus on, Will picked up a pencil and turned it quickly around his fingers, brow furrowed in frustration.

“You know, there’s some debate over that meaning. With the flowers. Some say that hydrangeas actually mean that the giver is arrogant and vain.” The florist looked up into Hannibal’s eyes, newly emboldened. “You should be careful with flowers.”

Hannibal knew that he should be offended, and had the words been spoken by anyone else, he would have been - but those blue eyes were enchanting, and there was something about Will that Hannibal found himself craving. Instead, he smiled.

“Next time, I’m sure I will be.” 

Will looked away from him, down at the counter. 

From around the corner, Matthew came, hefting a large pot of blue flowers. Fresh soil overflowed the pot, and there was a smudge of dirt above the man’s brow. 

“Thanks, Matthew.” Will said, obviously trying to appease his coworker. Matthew grunted in reply, looked Hannibal over, and disappeared back into the back rooms. The two men were alone in the shop, again. Will rang up the price with a furrowed brow, and it was only when he slid him the receipt and pen that the silence was broken.

“Sorry about everything. I was just- I’m new. I’m not quite used to working here, or working with people I guess, and it does show. This is a good store with good flowers, don’t let me ruin that for you.”

Hannibal tried not to focus on the slight brush of their hands as he handed the pen back across the counter. 

“You shouldn’t be so nervous about appearing inexperienced, Will. You seem well prepared in your work, and others will see that.” The young employee looked up with eyes wide with surprise. His mouth opened a little, like he was going to protest, but just gave a little smile instead.

“Gee, uh, thanks.” He tapped the pencil against the counter. “So, do you buy here often? You didn’t answer.”

Hannibal smiled in return. “This is the first time, but so far I’m quite taken with it.”

It was still cold and grey outside when Hannibal moved the large pot to his car, but his body felt quite warm for some reason. Sitting in his car, he watched the shop from across the street, and knew he would be back. 

~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~

“Wow, this is a lovely bouquet! Where did you get it?” Alana reached out and ran her fingers over a glossy fern leaf. The flowers were in an elegant vase on Hannibal’s dining room table. 

Hannibal looked up from the counter, where he was chopping onions. The bouquet in question was made up of dark green ferns and light, full wisteria blossoms. 

“Chilton’s,” he replied, setting his knife down and joining her by the table. “Fern leaves are known for their positive symbolism in many cultures, and wisteria symbolizes a welcome home. I thought the house needed something bright in the bleak weather.”

“Chilton’s – isn’t that the same place you bought those flowers for my birthday?” 

“The very same.”

“And where you bought the flowers for Linn when he got his internship match?”

“Yes,” Hannibal shifted, aware of where the conversation was going.

“You’ve been buying from them a lot lately,” Alana pushed.

It would be a lie for Hannibal to deny it - he had been to the florist’s many times in the past month.  
Gone to see Will many times in the past month. 

~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~

The second visit to the store was just out of curiosity. Hannibal, for some reason, couldn’t get the sensitive employee with the extensive flower knowledge out of his head. He decided to get something small – a bouquet of dahlia flowers. Will was there, behind the counter, copying something on a notepad from the computer screen. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw Hannibal, who was pleased to see the tips of his ears tinge red. They talked as Will finished arranging the round, dark red blossoms, adding a few sprigs of decorative foliage, and tying it off with a dark ribbon. The employee’s prickly demeanor had softened into something sweet and kind, and it made something in Hannibal’s chest swell. 

“So, do you know the meanings of these flowers?” he asked, teasingly, after Will handed him the bouquet, now wrapped in plastic.  
Will smiled shyly, and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I don’t know what every flower means. Hell, lots of them don’t even have meanings.”

“You still seem to have a substantial knowledge – why the interest?”

The young man shrugged, doodling a line on the notepad on the desk. “I’ve always thought it was cool to have a language made up of symbols, being able to say something you could never do with just words.”

“Do you have trouble using words sometimes?”

“Jeez, I didn’t realize this was some sort of therapy session. It’s just flowers.” The touchy defense was back up. Hannibal backpedaled, steering the conversation elsewhere. 

“Can you tell me about these flowers at least?” he asked. 

“Well, I don’t know about the individual colors,” Will bit his lip in thought. “But I know dahlias usually represent dignity. Who’re you giving them to?” 

“They’re for my home.”

“Ah, well. Dignity – that suits you.”

Hannibal wanted to visit him more after that. 

He’d quickly figured out what days to come to see his favorite florist. Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday after lunch was the best time, when Chilton himself was out of the shop and Will worked the counter. However, deciphering exact times had led to more than one awkward instance of Hannibal coming in the store when Will wasn’t working - and coming face to face with Matthew, his coworker. Hannibal always tried to act natural, asking for recommendations or what shipments the shop would be expecting – but he could tell that the man knew why he was really frequenting the shop. 

After the first two trips, Hannibal had been socially gentle with Will, coaxing smiles and laughs out of the employee, careful not to tread into any complicated territory too quickly. 

“Do you enjoy working with plants?” he asked, during one visit. 

“Yeah, most of them aren’t too difficult to keep, and it’s nice to take care of something and watch it grow. It’s not as fun as having an animal as a pet, but if you live in an apartment or something it’s the best you can do.” 

“Do you like animals?”

A grin spread across Will’s face. 

“Oh man, yeah!” he fished a phone out of his back pocket, and walked around the counter to stand beside Hannibal, opening up his gallery. 

“My other job is working for this adoption center in the city, I take care of a lot of the dogs. This one is Buster, he’s pretty greedy, and this one’s Applesauce, look how adorable she is.” Will swiped through picture after picture of dogs of all sizes and colors, giving Hannibal each one’s name and distinct personality. 

“And this one is Winston, he’s my favorite. He’s been with us a few years, but when I get my own place - not just renting, I’m gonna adopt him myself.” Will, smiling, looked up at Hannibal, who was preoccupied with the warm shoulder pressed against his own. Beneath the smell of soil, Will’s hair smelled sweet and musky, and Hannibal imagined running his fingers through his curls and - 

“Will! Stop showing the customers pictures of your mutts!” Matthew’s voice from the back room snapped both men out of their reverie. Will shoved his phone back in his pocket, and quickly returned to his side of the counter. Hannibal felt almost hurt by the loss of warm pressure; quickly, he gathered himself together again. Attachment was dangerous. 

~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~

“There’s someone at that shop, isn’t there?” Alana finally asked over dinner. Hannibal’s hand faltered slightly bringing a piece of mushroom to his mouth; he’d forgotten how observant the young undergraduate could be sometimes.  
He took a sip of water and sat back in his chair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Alana snorted. “You can be so obvious sometimes, when someone knows you like I do. You’re interested in someone at that florist’s, which is the root of your newfound flower fetish.” 

“There is no fetish.” 

“But there is someone.”

Hannibal decided to keep his silence, which he knew was answer enough. 

Alana continued, “Whoever it is, you should move things along – I assume that you go so often so you can see them?”  
Hannibal bit the inside of his cheek, she really was observant. 

“I’ll take what you’ve said into consideration.” he said, finally. Alana grinned at her mentor. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the crushing type, Hannibal – who knew?” 

~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~

That night, Hannibal was unable to think of anything but Will, and what Alana had said. He wondered if it was normal to have his thought process so encompassed, and speculated if maybe he was becoming a little obsessive. For the first time, he felt pressure in his feelings about Will. He’d been attracted to him from the first time they’d met, and that attraction had only increased with his visits. Memories of their time together came, unbidden. 

Helping Will pot a large plant for an online order, their fingers brushing through the potting soil, and staring at Will’s hands wet in the sink as he scrubbed them clean. 

Will looking at him during one of their conversations, his gaze passing over him once, twice – maybe, if Hannibal’s imagination wasn’t getting the best of him, lingering a little on his lips. He’d had to resist the urge to lick them, suddenly dry under the other man’s stare. 

Will explaining the symbolism for each flower he prepared. Together, they’d picked blossoms and foliage for Alana’s bouquet – camellias as a reward for her excellence in her academic work, pear blossoms signifying friendship. Hannibal recounted a humorous story from her freshman year, and Will chuckled heartily, looking up at Hannibal. Those bright eyes were the color of forget-me-nots, which Hannibal had learned, meant true love. 

Alana was right, Hannibal couldn’t keep hiding behind a veil of professional exchange to continue things with Will. Tomorrow, Will would be at work – he’d go and see him. He wouldn’t buy anything this time or skirt around the subject, he would straightforwardly confess his feelings, and see how things continued from there. Of course, Hannibal thought, maybe his affection was unrequited, and the whole ordeal would be an embarrassment. Hannibal frowned to himself, he would have to push those thoughts out of his head for now, and try to get some semblance of rest before the morning. 

~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~`*`~  
It was properly Spring, now. The air was warmed by a bright, full, sun, and tiny snowdrops and clover peeked out amongst the pavement as Hannibal walked towards Chilton’s. It was later in the afternoon than when he usually visited the shop, but Hannibal couldn’t help but be wracked with guilt at the possibility of ruining a whole day of work for Will with an unwelcome advance; better to do it now, towards the end of his shift.

The florist’s door was propped open with a wooden wedge, to let the warm breeze circle through the shop. In the window, Will was fixing a hanging basket, overflowing with greenery. Hannibal gave him a soft smile when he looked up from his work and met his eye – it was met with a grin. Hannibal’s smile became a little bigger, a little bolder. He stepped inside the shop. 

Will stepped down from his stepstool, brushing his hands on his apron. “I was wondering if you were gonna be here today, you’ve usually come and gone by now.”

“I had some errands to run,” Hannibal lied.

“Well I’m glad to see you!” he pointed to the sketchbook in Hannibal’s hands. “Are you doing some more drawings?”

Hannibal opened the book, showing Will. “Nothing too recently, maybe I could do some of flowers?”

“Sure!” Will admired the sketches, “I wish I could draw like this, you’re so good.” He returned the pad. 

Hannibal felt his heart lurch a little in his chest at the praise. He realized, then, that they had not been interrupted by Matthew, nor was there any noise coming from the back room today. 

“Are you alone, Will?”

“Oh yeah,” Will picked up the broom leaning up behind the counter, “Matt and Chilton both decided I’d been here long enough, and I could start closing up shop by myself if I needed to. And Matt’s sick today so, here I am.” He gestured to the interior. 

Hannibal nodded, encouraged knowing that they were alone. “I won’t keep you from your duties, then. If I may,” he grabbed the stool and sat in front of one of the baskets, pulling out his pencils. “I’ll be here.”

Will nodded, and started sweeping the floor, and tending to other needs around the store. No one was in the store, and eventually, Will put his radio on the counter, and classical music filled the air. 

It was a scene Hannibal wanted to commit to memory. The warm sun on his face and hands as he drew the tiny leaves of the ferns, looking up to see Will, busy at work. Every so often, their eyes would meet, and Will would smile thoughtfully at him. Hannibal’s stomach tightened a little, he’d have to broach the topic in one way or another – but this, this was something too wonderful to interrupt. 

Eventually, Will came to stand beside Hannibal, watching him put the finishing touches on the sketch. When the drawing was done, Hannibal looked up at him. 

“Sorry,” Will said sheepishly, “I’ve got to close up soon.” 

Hannibal nodded, and pondered just getting up and leaving. He’d come back the next day, or sometime next week, and talk with Will – just not now. The indecision must have shown on his face; Will frowned at him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

It was now or never. Hannibal stood and faced the scruffy florist. 

“Will, I’ve realized that over the course of our conversations,” he paused, hesitant, “that I’ve grown very fond of you. I can’t get enough time with you, it seems, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner tonight.” He took a deep breath, waiting for Will’s reaction. 

He didn’t say anything, at first, and anxiety pooled in Hannibal’s belly. 

“You’re free to decline, of course, I just thought it would be … nice.” he ended, lamely. 

Another stretch of silence ensued before Will’s face cracked into a toothy smile. 

“I’d love to, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal felt struck dumb, and Will chuckled as he silently stumbled over how to reply, his mouth working noiselessly. The radio started to play a familiar tune, something by Tchaikovsky, which filled the quiet between the two men. Will took his hand, the touch shocking Hannibal out of his speechlessness.

“Are you sure?” he asked, not quite believing his luck. 

Will laughed again, “I was actually beginning to wonder if I was just imagining you were interested in me – you always came in to buy something. I’d really like to go out with you. Here, actually, let me get something.”

Will let go of his hand, and Hannibal made to follow him, but the young man stopped him at the counter. 

“No, wait here.”

Will rummaged in the back for what felt like an eternity, but finally emerged with a singular flower, velvety red petals rimmed with white. He approached Hannibal from around the corner, and offered him the bloom.

“This is a gloxinia. Do you know it means?”

They looked into each other’s eyes, both pairs bright with emotion, leaning into one another. Hannibal smiled.

“I think I can guess.”

Their lips met, and the music and warm air swelled around them.

**Author's Note:**

> gloxinia - love at first sight  
> \-------------------------------  
> my gift for muffdash as part of the hannigram holiday gift exchange!  
> this was a lot of fun to write - and it's my first posted fanfic!!


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